Chapter 23: Navigating the Divine Stakes of the Revival Project

“You’re right. The gods of the Transcendent Realm do have ranks based on their stature, but it doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme. After all, they’re just imitations of the Archetypal Gods.”

“The funny thing is, even among themselves, they’re desperate to draw lines of status. It’s not just about rank—they crave a distinction in their very existence. Those god’s call themselves the Named Ones. Your patron god is one of them, you know.”

I mulled over Nameless man’s words, trying to piece together their meaning, when a sudden question sparked in my mind.  

“But is it okay to tell me all this?”  

If so, why did we even bother with that ‘Mouth of Truth’ game back then?  

As if reading my thoughts, Nameless let out a soft chuckle.  

“The ‘Mouth of Truth’ was to discern whether the answers were true or not. I can’t tell you everything, but I can share this much. And trust me, you’re better off knowing at least this.”  

“I’m not understanding a single thing here,” I admitted, frustration creeping in.  

The nameless man laughed quietly, then fell into a moment of thought. 

Finally, he spoke.  

“Ever heard of Plato’s Theory of Forms?”  

“Yeah, I think we covered it in ethics class… Forms, like ideals or concepts, right?”  

“Exactly. The Archetypal Gods are those ideals personified. Everything else—objects, beings—are mere reflections of those ideals. That’s why they’re ever-changing, taking on countless forms. It’s like how gods in myths have multiple names, or how a single god can have countless stories spun around them.”  

“Whoa, so Plato was onto something?”  

“Close enough. Every world has at least one scholar who’s brushed against the truth, even faintly. They say it’s amusing—how the furthest copies, the ones most distant from the archetype, can still glimpse fragments of truth.”  

I bet that last bit came straight from my patron god.

“Now that you mention it, that’s where IdeaTV got its name, huh?”  

“Right. On Earth, that’s the closest concept. Every world has its own term for the Forms, so the translated names vary. To the gods, it’s all conveyed in the original tongue.”  

“I see…”  

Nameless watched me, his eyes glinting with something like amusement, before continuing.  

“Take a look at the channel ranked second this week.”  

“Oh, sure.”  

Wait. 

Why was I suddenly acting so compliant? 

Was it his oddly gentle tone? 

‘No, I can’t let my guard down.’  

Who knows when he might turn and stab me in the back?  

Anyway, the second-ranked channel belonged to someone from Earth. 

Their story was intriguing, to say the least. 

The moment they recalled their past life, they died—only to be roped into the Revival Project. 

Born in Korea, living in a time similar to mine, they were sent back to their previous life: Renaissance Florence. 

In that life, they were an artist, snuffed out before their prime by the wrath of a pope.  

I skimmed their video, and the vibe was… strange. 

Seeing someone from a history-book era, alone, muttering modern slang like “what’s up, TV?” while trashing the pope—it gave me an indescribable sense of dissonance. 

Their obsession with speed, shouting “hurry, hurry!” at every turn, and their knack for razor-sharp video edits made it seem like they’d been a content creator in their reincarnated life. 

It screamed “Korean YouTuber” so loudly it was almost embarrassing.  

“And the one blending these two styles is you, sitting in third place,” Nameless said.  

“Yep,” I replied, less than thrilled.  

“Not happy about it?”  

“It’s not that. It’s just… the attention’s more on my patron god’s clout than my own story, isn’t it? Plus, the ones watching are probably Transcendent Gods, and at least a third of them are likely backing my competitors. This ranking feels like it’s built on their attempts to keep me in check.”  

The deeper I looked, the messier it got. 

This wasn’t just a fight among participants. 

If a patron god’s mere presence could draw this much heat, it meant the gods were competing too. 

Another question hit me.  

‘What do these patron gods even get out of this?’  

Wasn’t this just a game they played with lowly human souls?  

Maybe I was overthinking it. 

I felt the urge to voice the question, to gauge Nameless’s reaction, but I held back. 

Too much curiosity could be poisonous. 

Besides, I doubted he’d give me the reaction I wanted. 

It might even make it seem like I was fishing for more than I should know. 

This was the gods’ business—maybe a mere participant like me shouldn’t dig too deep.  

‘Either way, the nameless’s their proxy.’  

I tapped the screen to switch to my channel. 

Four videos had been uploaded according to schedule. 

The title of the first one caught my eye immediately:  ‘[Kicking Off with a Skill Flex?! The First Revived to Wield a Skill Makes a Grand Entrance!]’  

“…Did ‘you’ come up with this title?” 

I asked, glancing at Nameless.  

He nodded, his expression saying, ‘Why ask the obvious?’  

“No, I mean…”  

“What? Got a problem with it?”  

“No, it’s just…”  

‘You’re better at this than me.’  

It was a blatant, in-your-face title screaming, ‘I’ve got a high-tier god backing me!’ 

I couldn’t even come up with something this attention-grabbing. 

Stifling a mix of awe and exasperation, I scrolled to the comments.  

‘- Who’s the patron god letting them use skills already?’  

‘- ??? There’s a coin limit for special missions—how’s this even possible??’  

‘- Rigged AF.’  

As expected, the anonymous comments reeked of suspicion and rivalry.  

‘- InLoveWithLoveIsNoCrime: Oh my gosh, is this face even real? So gorgeous, so beautiful! If Michelangelo saw this, he’d leap out of his grave to sculpt it! Can we trade this sponsored soul? I’ll pay any amount of Fame!’  

‘-ButterflySoul: Mother, please, not here…’  

‘ButterflySoul’—the name rang a bell. 

Thanks to my old obsession with binge-reading Greek-Roman mythology comics, I had a decent memory of the major stories. 

If my guess was right, this was Psyche, Eros’s wife.  

‘So then… InLoveWithLoveIsNoCrime is… Aphrodite? The goddess of love and beauty?’  

“Seems like the gods are pretty into Earth, huh? I swear there’s one—probably Dionysus—who’s obsessed with a Korean musical actor.”  

“They’ve lived near-eternal lives. All they do is peer into one world after another,” Nameless said, his tone laced with subtle disdain, though his face remained unreadable.  

‘Whose side is this guy even on?’  

I turned back to the comments.  

‘- TroubleMaker: Heh heh heh.’  

What was ‘that’ supposed to mean? 

‘TroubleMaker’ didn’t spark any obvious god in my mind. 

My knowledge was mostly limited to Greek-Roman mythology anyway. 

Even the camera’s name, Loki, I only recently learned was the Norse god, not the superhero movie version. 

I still had no clue who my own patron god was.  

‘- ThreadUnraveler: Oh my, this is fun.’  

‘- Family, assemble!!’  

‘- Line up here!’  

‘- I’m betting ten million Fame, lolol.’  

‘- Curse that old geezer, blind his other eye!’  

‘- Please, let me go back to my original face!’  

‘- Make me rank up this time!!!!’  

‘- Ruin him!!’  

The comments were pure reactions, but the nickname ‘ThreadUnraveler’ stuck out. 

It evoked the Fates, the three goddesses who spun human lives as threads—one spinning, one measuring, one cutting. 

But in Greek-Roman mythology, there was no goddess who ‘unraveled’ threads.  

“Who’s this god?” I asked, pointing to the name. 

The cryptic replies beneath it only deepened the mystery.  

They felt like those internet comments piling up under viral prophecies, turning them into pilgrimage sites. 

Some even hinted at bets, as if the gods were wagering Fame on who’d come out on top. 

Fame clearly held weight in the Transcendent Realm, valuable enough to be traded, but why were they discussing it in ‘my’ video’s comments?  

“Who is this?” I asked the Nameless man.  

He went quiet, his face a mask of careful deliberation, as if weighing what to say and what to keep hidden.  

“Telling you their True Name is forbidden. Even in the comments, their True Names are filtered out.”  

He was probably referring to those blacked-out squares.  

“Yeah, I noticed…”  

“They could be helpful if you play your cards right. But be cautious.”  

“Hm?”  

“They’re… unlucky. And obsessive.”  

“Huh?”  

“Just my personal take.”  

He spoke like someone who’d been burned by this god before. 

‘Obsessive’ wasn’t exactly a glowing review.  

I moved on to the comments under the other videos. 

Compared to the first, the views and engagement had dipped, but the god’s focus was shifting—less on my patron god, more on me and my situation. 

The fact that the Revival Project, a survival competition, included yet another survival audition seemed to intrigue them. 

My desperation, toyed with by my patron god’s special missions, apparently made for good entertainment.  

‘- Thought it’d be all fluff, but it’s got some bite. Kinda fun.’  

‘- THIS is the real stuff, Aaaa. Straight-up bullying is boring, but playing along and then backstabbing? That’s the peak.’  

‘Not exactly a warm fuzzy feeling.’  

What was wrong with these god’s moral compasses?  

‘- At first, I thought they were just flexing their patron’s clout, but this audition’s getting spicy. Kid’s got some grit.’  

‘- Doesn’t feel like a scripted setup, which is nice. They’re on the right track.’  

These comments reminded me of ones you’d see on (Casting With My Own Hand!), a reality show vibe. 

‘Scripted setup’—how did they even know that phrase? 

Definitely a Korean god.  

I scanned a few more comments before wrapping up my first monitoring session. 

Closing the channel window, I glanced at Nameless.  

“…It’s not bad. Better than I expected.”  

“Not bad, huh?”  

Why was he smiling so warmly? 

It gave me chills.  

“Yeah, I guess. This direction… feels like the right one to keep going. The challenge is whether I can keep pulling out interesting moments like this. But being natural seems like a solid selling point.”  

“That’s what I think too.”  

[‘The god ‘Butterfly’s Wingbeat’ agrees with you!’]  

“Haha.”  

I wanted to snap at him, but what could I do? 

I forced a laugh.  

“Keep focusing on (Casting With My Own Hand!). If you’ve got ideas during monitoring, speak up.”  

“…Got it.”  

It felt a little strange. 

Back when we first met, I never would’ve guessed he’d actually play the role of a supportive agent like this.  

“What?”  

His faint smile told me he’d caught the shift in my expression.  

“No need to worry I’ll edit anything to screw you over. My job is to make sure the videos on your channel are edited right. That’s the ‘surprise gift’ I’m here for.”  

His self-deprecating tone grated, but I let it slide. 

A brief silence fell, interrupted by a notification popping up on the message window.